


"Take Me To Church"

by prodigalpoet



Series: Soulmates [9]
Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Break Up, Broken Engagement, Depression, Elena is the best best friend, Eve is drinking, Exes, F/F, Grief, Heartache, Heartbreak, Hozier, Inevitable, Insomnia, Konstantin Is A Nosy Spirit, Lion King, Longing, Loss, Matching Taylor Swift Tshirts, Mention of Character Death, Missing Each Other Hours, Our Fave Girls Are Married, POV Eve Polastri, POV Second Person, Post-Break Up, Processing Emotions Is Important, Second Chances, Song: The 1, Stream Folklore, Stress, Taylor Swift - Freeform, Taylor Swift Supremacy, Villanelle Loves Rom Coms, Villanelle Proposed In Front Of A Red Bus, Villanelle is a swiftie, Villanelle is everywhere, Villanelle loves cake, Villaneve
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:01:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25447285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prodigalpoet/pseuds/prodigalpoet
Summary: Eve discovers Villanelle is working as a double agent and breaks off their engagement, horrified that Villanelle would risk her own life despite making a commitment to Eve.Eve sees Villanelle six times post-breakup and her heartache becomes stronger each time. A conversation finally happens the sixth time.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Series: Soulmates [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1793398
Comments: 67
Kudos: 163





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 1) Title taken from Hozier's song of the same name (lyrics are below). 
> 
> 2) Apologies in advance for how emotional this piece may make you feel. I was pretty deep in my feelings when I wrote it (I couldn't sleep). I think we can all relate to how difficult it is to run into an ex following an intense, passionate relationship. I did my best to capture the ache that resurfacing memories can produce. 
> 
> 3) Leave kudos or a comment if this piece resonates with you and thank you for reading! 
> 
> 4) If I add another chapter, the second one will be from Villanelle's POV covering the material in this one. Let me know if you'd be interested.
> 
> Lyrics:
> 
> My lover's got humor  
> She's the giggle at a funeral  
> Knows everybody's disapproval  
> I should've worshiped her sooner  
> If the Heavens ever did speak  
> She's the last true mouthpiece  
> Every Sunday's getting more bleak  
> A fresh poison each week  
> "We were born sick", you heard them say it  
> My church offers no absolutes  
> She tells me, "Worship in the bedroom"  
> The only Heaven I'll be sent to  
> Is when I'm alone with you  
> I was born sick, but I love it  
> Command me to be well  
> A-, Amen, Amen, Amen  
> Take me to church  
> I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies  
> I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife  
> Offer me that deathless death  
> Good God, let me give you my life  
> Take me to church  
> I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies  
> I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife  
> Offer me that deathless death  
> Good God, let me give you my life  
> If I'm a pagan of the good times  
> My lover's the sunlight  
> To keep the Goddess on my side  
> She demands a sacrifice  
> Drain the whole sea  
> Get something shiny  
> Something meaty for the main course  
> That's a fine looking high horse  
> What you got in the stable?  
> We've a lot of starving faithful  
> That looks tasty  
> That looks plenty  
> This is hungry work  
> Take me to church  
> I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies  
> I'll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife  
> Offer me my deathless death  
> Good God, let me give you my life  
> Take me to church  
> I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies  
> I'll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife  
> Offer me my deathless death  
> Good God, let me give you my life  
> No masters or kings when the ritual begins  
> There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin  
> In the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene  
> Only then I am human  
> Only then I am clean  
> Oh, oh, Amen, Amen, Amen  
> Take me to church  
> I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies  
> I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife  
> Offer me that deathless death  
> Good God, let me give you my life  
> Take me to church  
> I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies  
> I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife  
> Offer me that deathless death  
> Good God, let me give you my life

I.

The first time you see her post break-up, you think you’re hallucinating. You’re at a restaurant with Elena eating dinner and you pause when you smell her intoxicating scent, one you would recognize anywhere. You whip your head around and your eyes quickly scan the entirety of the room. You spot her as she heads towards an exit, wearing a silk blouse and wide leg pants. You gasp because you haven’t seen her in ten months although sometimes you’ve felt her. You haven’t texted her back or returned her calls. You inhale quickly, feeling like you’ve just been stabbed and Elena asks you if you’re alright. You double over the table, wheezing, and can’t help the tears that roll down your cheeks. You feel like you’re going to pass out. You could call her and ask her to come back and you know she would. You don’t. You let Elena take you home and she sleeps next to you because you don’t want to be alone. After she leaves the next morning, you pull out the plastic heart hidden in the drawer of your bedside table just so you can hear her voice. You even pull out your old laptop, the one you used when you were together, and look through photos.

She’s in bed naked, grinning at you, hiding her face behind one hand. 

She’s in Paris, ice cream in one hand, hair billowing in the wind, and reaching behind her, for you, with her other hand.

She’s kneeling in front of a parked double decker red bus with an “Eve, will you marry me?” message on its side (Elena took this photo).

Your heart hurts so you drink until you pass out. When you wake up a few hours later, you wake up crying.

II.

The second time you see her, you’re leaving your apartment to go for a morning run, something you haven’t done in a long time. You put your headphones in your ears and hit play on one of her favorite exercise playlists. You ignore the dull ache within your chest and start to pound the pavement. You feel tired a few minutes in and place your palms on your knees, bending over and wheezing. When you stand upright, you spot her at the bus stop. She’s wearing a dark hat, bomber jacket, white tee, and olive colored pants, and looking down at a book. You want to scream out her name but you don’t. You don’t think she’s there for you since you’re sure her job with Hélène takes her everywhere she needs to go, but you secretly hope that she is. You remember the words she said to you on the bus that day so many months ago: “I’m not here for you.” But you desperately want her to be, always, every single time. You push down the desire because you’re the one who broke off the engagement, you’re the one who screamed at her to get out of your life and to never contact you again. You start to run again but this time you run back home and collapse onto your unmade bed.

When you wake up a few hours later, you wake up crying.

III.

The third time you see her is on the train. She is standing near the door and a girl is hanging onto every word she says, mumbling into her ear and giving her kisses whenever she stops talking. Both are dressed well but she looks exceptional. When she feels you watching her, she lifts her head from the girl’s roving lips, and the both of you make eye contact. You notice a black eye and split lip and you wonder why she hasn't covered either up. You realize she isn't wearing much makeup and it's probably because she's tired. An apologetic expression crosses her face and you look away, your concern over how she is doing quickly replaced by anger and panic now simmering beneath your skin. You get off at the next stop and sit down on the bench, choosing to wait for any another train. You squeeze your eyes tightly so you won’t start to cry and try to slow down your breaths. You don’t bother lifting your eyes to return her gaze when you sense her parting from a crowd and approaching you. You swear she says “Sorry, baby,” as she walks by you, alone, and disappears around the corner.

IV.

The fourth time you see her is across the room at Konstantin’s house. She walks through the front door with a large birthday cake in both hands and Irina almost bowls her over with her enthusiasm. Although the room is crowded, you’re the first person she lays her eyes on. You swallow at the relief on her face and you think maybe she thought you weren’t going to show up. As usual, she looks devastating. Her eyes travel the length of your body and her flushed cheeks tell you she thinks you look the same. You consider walking up to her and pulling her into a side room but Konstantin interrupts your fantasy, pushing you towards one of his old friends and introducing you “like a daughter.” His comment breaks your heart even more.

Irina finds you and pulls you towards her so you can help her with the cake. After handing a piece to Konstantin, you turn back around and notice that she’s on the other side of Irina, making funny expressions to the crowd of teenagers in front of her, causing them to erupt into laughter. She catches your eye and you send her a soft smile. She quirks an eyebrow and lifts her head, acknowledging the gesture. A phone call interrupts the moment and she leaves the room to take it. You grab a piece of cake and think about offering it to her (because you know how much she loves cake) until Irina tells you she had to leave for work. You stumble out of the party then, your vision blurring with tears, remembering your birthday party last year when she fed you cake in bed and licked icing off of your body.

“You’re going to ruin your slice of cake by leaving portions of it on my body like this,” you whispered to her, voice barely audible because of how aroused you were at the feeling of her tongue above your navel, spreading icing around.

“I love cake but I love you more.”

V.

The fifth time you see her is at Elena’s engagement party. She is in the garden hanging string lights through the branches of the trees as you spot her through the kitchen window. Just when you’ve summoned up enough courage to go outside and say hello, Elena has asked you for help managing the influx of guests. An hour later, you see her again. She’s on the phone in the kitchen, talking in a low voice. When you try to catch up with her, Elena’s cousin hands you her baby and excuses herself for a bathroom break. You start to hum a Korean lullaby and your heart almost stops when she sidles next to you (but not close enough to touch) and joins in. Before you can ask her how she knows the tune, Elena’s cousin has thanked you and removed her baby, leaving you two alone together for the first time since that horrible day. She looks exhausted and broken. You want to take her by the hand and lead her upstairs, away from all the noise. There’s so much you want to say but nothing comes out. She tells you that you look good before turning away and heading towards the front door. The scent of her perfume lingers against your collar and you pull it towards your nose and inhale. You see her hugging Elena and then she’s gone. It isn’t until later, when you’re back at home, that you realize there were tears in her eyes when she turned away.

VI.

The sixth time you see her is at Konstantin’s funeral. She’s standing behind Irina wearing a black suit and sunglasses, hair pulled up in a tight bun. Irina pulls away from her after the coffin has been lowered into the ground and you see the two exchanging heated words. You end up behind them in the funeral procession that exits the graveyard. Half an hour later, everyone is at Konstantin's house. You catch her in the kitchen, swearing at the teapot in Russian, and you take it from her with one hand, using your other hand to brush the base of her back. She’s crying so you stop moving. You turn the stove off and pull her up the stairs behind you until you reach the guest bedroom. You lock the door and lead her to the bed. You lie down and she does, too. You remove her sunglasses and brush the tears from her face with your thumbs.

“Are you okay?,” you whisper, eyes swelling with tears, knowing full well she isn’t.

She nods, No.

“Oksana. I’m sorry. For everything,” you blurt out.

Your chest is heaving now and tears are flowing freely down your face. You can feel her body shaking beneath your hands and you let her pull you close. You lift your head and your lips meet hers and you kiss her like it’s the first and the last time. She breathes you in and you can taste the salt from her tears and you almost bite her tongue off when she slips it between your teeth.

“I am sorry as well,” she whispers back, resting her forehead against yours.

“I am sorry for cutting off the engagement and kicking you out and calling you a liar. I am so sorry for these last ten months. I have wasted our time together.”

She squints her eyes shut and suddenly you’re reminded of the last time you had sex, the night before you kicked her out. She was riding your thigh and closed her eyes just like she is doing now and you remember wanting to memorialize the moment in a photo because of how attractive she looked and how aroused she made you feel.

“Do you still love me?,” you stammer, regret blooming within your body like a bruise.

“I never stopped,” she replies softly before kissing you again.

“Even though I did all of those horrible things?”

“You did those things because you were worried about me and because you loved me back.”

“I still love you.”

“What?”

“You used past tense. I never stopped loving you. I still love you and am in love with you.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“You haven’t...? There hasn’t been anyone else?,” she manages to ask, her voice raspy and hoarse.

“Nobody.”

“Oh.”

“Can you come back home please? Tonight?”

“Yes.”

“I want to marry you, if the question still stands.”

“It does.”

“You didn’t throw away the rings, did you?” A half-hearted laugh escapes your lips but you know the mirth doesn’t reach your eyes.

Her hand caresses your cheek and she shakes her head, No.

“I’m really sorry about Konstantin. I know he was like family to you. What is Irina going to do?”

“She will live with her mother. They live twenty five minutes from here. I told her we would see her as often as possible.”

“You told her we would see her, not just you?”

“Yes, we.”

“Did you know we were going to talk today?”

“Me and you, we are inevitable. I knew we would find our way back to each other, I just didn’t know when. I didn’t want to force you into anything.”

“You would never force me because I would want to. Oksana—“

“Eve—“

“Let me go first. I’ve missed you. A lot. My life has been empty without you. I love you and I’m sorry. Really. I know my apology won’t bring back the time we lost, but...”

“Eve, I already said I would come back tonight. I’m not going anywhere. I’m done working for Hélène. I killed everyone who needed to be taken care of. She never found out I was a double agent for Carolyn. You were right. It was very dangerous and I almost died three times. I should have told you I was working for them both but I didn’t want you to get involved. I knew you would come after me if I told you the truth from the beginning. But you found out anyway and we both know what happened after that but it’s okay now. We’re free. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. I’m all yours.”

“I’m all yours,” you repeat and you mean it with every fiber of your being.

You’re crying and she’s crying and you can’t stop kissing her. 

You don’t remember leaving the guest room and saying bye to Irina but she tells you that you both did before heading back to your apartment and pulling off each other’s clothes and falling next to each other in your bed. You notice new scars on her body and want to ask her about them later. For now, you caress them gently with your fingers and she takes your hand and kisses it as if to say thank you. You don’t have sex because you’re both too exhausted and grieving but she lets you hold her close and you wipe away her tears as she sobs against your chest and you don’t know if she’s weeping for Konstantin or Irina or for the time lost between you two but you’re glad you’re holding her and you don’t want to let her go again.

She stops crying and looks at you, eyes wide. “We didn’t take any cake from the reception. I don’t even know what flavor Irina chose. I told her to go with vanilla sponge cake and buttercream icing.”

You laugh through your tears and you dip your head down to kiss her. “I’ll bake you a vanilla cake later, not right now. I just want to lie with you for awhile more. I love cake but I love you more.”

“I love cake but I love you more,” she repeats, a nostalgic smile softening her features. 

She leaves the bed and sticks her hand in the pocket of her suit jacket, removing your engagement ring. 

You hold your hand out, heart thumping hard, and she slips the ring on your finger. 

Your eyes glance at her hand and you notice the matching ring already there. 

Your heart stops for a beat.

“Have you been wearing that since…?”

“Since you placed it on my finger? Yes.”

“And you carried mine with you, wherever you went?”

“Yes. In case I had the chance to propose to you again. It was my most prized possession,” she says fondly, proudly, and with conviction.

“God, I’m such an idiot.” 

You smack your hand against your forehead and she hisses, quickly pulling your hand away.

“No, you’re not. You were trying to protect me and I loved you for doing that even though it hurt.”

“I can’t wait to be your wife,” you confess, slipping your hand around her neck and pulling her head down so your mouths can meet. "Take me to church," you sing against her lips, Hozier's voice floating through your head. "The only Heaven I'll be sent to is when I'm alone with you," you mumble against her neck.

“Worship in the bedroom...," she sings back, kissing the base of your throat before pulling away.

She shuffles her body so that she is leaning against the headboard and spreads her legs, inviting you to sit between them so she can clasp her hands around your stomach. 

“I’ve been waiting for this moment,” she whispers, pressing a kiss against your neck.

“I wanted to kiss you every time I saw you.”

"Me too."

“Even when I was on the train?”

“Yes, even then.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“She didn’t mean anything.”

“I know.”

“Elena has been updating me on how you have been doing.”

“She has?”

You’re surprised but not surprised. You’re not unhappy that she’s been keeping tabs. In fact, it makes you feel good.

“Yes.”

“So that’s how you knew we would be at that restaurant?”

“Yes. You looked good when you were running that one day, by the way.”

You smile, taking her hand from your belly and kissing her palm.

“You were at the bus stop so you could watch me exercise? You weren’t actually reading a book??”

“Yes and no, of course not. Your ass looked good in those leggings.”

She laughs against your neck and tightens her hold.

“You bought those for me.”

“I remember.”

“Me too.”

“I remember everything.”

“Me too.”

"Konstantin was right, that pain in my ass."

"Right about what?"

"About us."

"What an asshole."

"To Konstantin!" Both of you raise invisible champagne flutes and knock them together and you swear you can hear Konstantin's booming, incredulous laughter accompanied by an "I told you so," and a wink.


	2. "The 1"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Villanelle's POV. 
> 
> She sees Eve six times post-breakup and her heartache becomes stronger each time. A conversation finally happens the sixth time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Taylor Swift's "The 1" is the song referenced repeatedly in quotes (if you haven't streamed "Folklore" in its entirety yet, what are you doing?!)
> 
> 2) Let me know in the comments what Taylor song you'd like me to try and incorporate in any one of my other fics or send me one-shot ideas with song suggestions!
> 
> 3) Thanks for reading! Have a great weekend and enjoy listening to Taylor on repeat.
> 
> 4) This chapter is a long, emotional one so get ready.
> 
> Taylor Swift "The 1" video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_yHn-954iVQ
> 
> Lyrics:
> 
> I’m doing good, I’m on some new shit  
> Been saying “yes” instead of “no”  
> I thought I saw you at the bus stop, I didn’t though  
> I hit the ground running each night  
> I hit the Sunday matinée  
> You know the greatest films of all time were never made
> 
> I guess you never know, never know  
> And if you wanted me, you really should’ve showed  
> And if you never bleed, you’re never gonna grow  
> And it’s alright now
> 
> But we were something, don’t you think so?  
> Roaring 20s, tossing pennies in the pool  
> And if my wishes came true  
> It would’ve been you  
> In my defense, I have none  
> For never leaving well enough alone  
> But it would’ve been fun  
> If you would’ve been the one  
> (Ooh)
> 
> I had this dream you’re doing cool shit  
> Having adventures on your own  
> You meet some woman on the internet and take her home  
> We never painted by the numbers, baby  
> But we were making it count  
> You know the greatest loves of all time are over now
> 
> I guess you never know, never know  
> And it’s another day waking up alone
> 
> But we were something, don’t you think so?  
> Roaring 20s, tossing pennies in the pool  
> And if my wishes came true  
> It would’ve been you  
> In my defense, I have none  
> For never leaving well enough alone  
> But it would’ve been fun  
> If you would’ve been the one
> 
> I, I, I persist and resist the temptation to ask you  
> If 1 thing had been different  
> Would everything be different today?
> 
> We were something, don’t you think so?  
> Rosé flowing with your chosen family  
> And it would’ve been sweet  
> If it could’ve been me  
> In my defense, I have none  
> For digging the grave another time  
> But it would’ve been fun  
> If you would’ve been the one

I.

Elena tells you where they’re going to be eating and what time they’ll be arriving so you make sure to reach the restaurant an hour before, seating yourself at a corner table in the back. You’re nervous so you order an appetizer to have something to occupy yourself with while you wait. You also down two cups of coffee. The caffeine only heightens your anxiety but you’d accept these jitters any day if it meant that you could watch her for a few minutes, undetected.

Your breath hitches when you notice her walk in. You’ve been traveling around the world for the last ten months and haven’t seen her since the break-up. She looks skinnier and tired. Thankfully, Elena has been keeping you updated on how she is doing. Your heart hurts when she tells you that she’s having trouble sleeping and has resorted to drinking a little more than usual but it comforts you to know she has a good friend by her side.

She’s wearing a forest green jumpsuit that shows off just a hint of cleavage and her hair is down and she looks fucking good. She’s wearing a touch of makeup and you know her neck has a few drops of perfume against it; it takes all of your willpower to not run up to her and kiss her neck and her throat, your tongue tracing the glimpse of her collarbone beneath her necklace.

She sits down with her back towards you and Elena sits down across from her, catching your intense gaze and acknowledging your presence. Your heart beats against your ribcage and you feel lightheaded. Your entire body pulses with electricity and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up like you are the one being watched. You watch her order and you even grin when she laughs at a joke Elena makes. The second they finish eating, you realize you have to go before she turns and spots you. Even if you leave now, she will know you’re there, she always had a sixth sense about your presence just like you did about hers. You walk towards an exit but not before you approach the back of her chair. You know you’re dangerously close but you do so anyway, wanting her to sense you, daring her to turn around. She doesn’t. You turn and almost run towards the door. 

When you reach the apartment that you’re renting (it’s five minutes away from hers), you’re crying and swearing in a mix of different languages. You want her to call you. To ask you to come over. To tell you that she sensed you at dinner. She doesn’t. You throw your phone against the couch and you lie there, chest heaving, wondering if this is what a slow death feels like.

Elena texts you ten minutes later.

“I’m with her. She’s crying. She told me she thought she could smell your perfume. She’s okay, for tonight.”

Your heart feels like a wall someone is taking a sledgehammer to and you wish you hadn’t walked so close to her table because maybe then she wouldn’t be crying now.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I couldn’t help it. Thanks for being with her.”

“Are you okay?”

You avoid answering and reply with, “It was nice to see her. And you.”

“I hope both of you find your way back to each other, V.”

“Me too, but she needs time and I need to finish my jobs.”

“LMK if you need anything.”

“I will. Thanks again.”

You get up and change out of your clothes, throwing them in the ever-growing “to take to the dry cleaners” pile. 

You shower, standing beneath a torrent of water, and you think of her body. You think of her and you touch yourself. You remember pressing her against the countertop in her bathroom and the push and pull dance you participated in when you followed her into the shower. You remember the way she sounded at the height of her climax and the small whimpers that fell from her mouth when you helped bring her back down. You remember the trail of lovebites she left against your skin and the way she reacted to her name tumbling from your lips.

You remember every excruciating detail and it’s her name you’re mumbling when your orgasm makes your knees buckle and you have to lean against the wall to steady yourself. 

You wonder if she still touches herself and thinks of you.

You dream of her touching herself and calling out your name and when you wake up, your body is drenched in a cold sweat.

"I, I, I persist and resist the temptation to ask you, if one thing had been different, would everything be different today?"

II.

The days drag by and you feel like you’re suffocating. You’re not interested in picking anyone up for a mindless fuck so you don’t. You’ve remained loyal to her despite the length of time that has passed. You don’t want to worship anybody else’s body, only hers. You don’t want to make anyone else come, only her. Elena tells you she hasn’t dated at all or even had a one-night stand and this gives you hope. You carry around her engagement ring wherever you go because you know you would drop to one knee and ask her again to be yours, if she would let you.

You don’t know what else to do so you loiter around the bus stop close to her apartment. You don’t bother with a disguise because now you want her to see you. The aching sensation that keeps you up at night and causes you to sleep during the day is a stubborn, selfish one. You want her to know you are around, in case she needs you for anything. 

You know Elena has been encouraging her to start running again so when you see her actually walk out her front door one day dressed in the leggings you bought for her along with that much-loved Yale t-shirt you loved to borrow, you almost jump for joy. You take a few deep breaths and bury your head in the Korean dictionary you’re reading so you can perfect your language skills by the time she is back in your life. You’ve even been watching videos on YouTube and started to learn simple songs because she’s told you how much she appreciates you singing to her in the different languages you know.

You discreetly look at her as she fumbles with her old iPod, the one you added all of those dirty tracks to. You grin at her confused expression and raised eyebrows and watch as her fingers jab the touchscreen (your ex-fiancée/soon-to-be fiancée has never been good with technology but you promised her you’d help her learn and once she’s back in your life, you will). Her hair is pulled up and she looks ravishing. If you could, you would run across the street and lift her into your arms and lay her down beneath the tree behind her and have sex with her, public place or not. Then you’d make a joke about how her outfit is so damn sexy and she’d joke back and say she is just wearing work-out clothes before asking you if you are ever not aroused around her and you’d tell her frankly, no.

Your face heats up when she lifts her head and notices you. Your legs feel weak. You don’t make any sudden movements and remain casually situated, turning back to your book. When your eyes leave the page again, her front door is closing.

You shut the book and walk back to your place, chest burning with longing. You change into leggings and a bra before going out for a long run. The lyrics from the song you’re listening to makes your chest burn even more: “I’m doing good, I’m on some new shit. Been saying “yes” instead of “no.” I thought I saw you at the bus stop, I didn’t though. I hit the ground running each night, I hit the Sunday matinee. You know the greatest films of all time were never made.”

When you collapse onto the couch after eating dinner, you call Konstantin who complains about having his dinner interrupted but changes his tone when you mention her name. You know he has a soft spot for her and wants you to make up with her.

“How do I make her come back?”

“Are you done with your work?”

“Not yet.”

“That is the reason she was upset, wasn’t it?”

“Sort of.”

“Finish what you have to do and then you need to do a grand gesture and apologize for being a dick.”

“Like hold a boombox over my head and stand outside her window?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“John Cusack in Say Anything? God, Konstantin, you need to come over and watch movies with me. For someone who has traveled around the world, you are not culturally savvy.”

“Grand gesture like asking her again to be your wife and apologizing.”

“I have apologized. She hasn’t replied to my texts or letters or emails.”

“You are still working. She is worried you will be killed. You’ve been gone for a very long time. Her heart is broken.”

“Have you been watching romance movies without me? Who made you the relationship expert?”

“I have made many mistakes, this is why I know so much.”

He chuckles quietly.

There’s a silence and then you ask softly, “What if she doesn’t want me?”

“Ha!”

You frown over his bizarre response.

“You are a very strange man.”

“She wants you.”

“How do you know, are you a psychic??”

“She loves you.”

“Have you been talking to her?? You have been cheating on me with my soon-to-be fiancée!!!,” you growl.

“You two have been in love with each other since you saw each other in that stupid bathroom. I have heard of this story, Irina has heard of this story, Carolyn has heard, Elena, probably even your toxic French boss. Even Nadia has heard! We all know how you two met because neither of you have stopped talking about each other for years. You are experts on one another. Everyone knows you will end up together. Although I don’t know why anyone would love you, you’re a pain in the ass.”

“Ha, ha. So not funny. This pain in the ass is going to sleep.”

“Stop worrying, Villanelle. Be patient. Finish your job duties and apologize to her. You two deserve a happy ending.”

“‘Maybe you have been watching romance movies without me...”

He grunts and you hang up.

That night, in your dream, she is running and you are behind her, trying your hardest to catch up.

“I have this dream you’re doing cool shit, having adventures on your own...we never painted by the numbers, baby, but we were making it count. You know the greatest loves of all time are over now.”

III.

You follow the dark-haired girl you’ve been tailing onto a train, knowing that she will be your last hit, the only person left between you and the freedom you have been working so hard to gain. Carolyn told you as such, that this girl would be the last person you needed to hunt down and take care of. And you’re so ready to be done. Especially after Henley punched you in the eye and elbowed you in the lip before you stabbed him in the jugular vein. That was last night. Your body is screaming in pain but you have to keep moving. You’re giddy to be so close to the finish line. One step closer to freedom and to Eve, you think, letting the drunk girl introduce herself to you as she whispers against your ear that she noticed you watching her back in the pub and she didn’t mind one bit. You let her nibble on your bottom lip and you even bend your head down so she can kiss the length of your jawline. When you pull your head back up, your entire body stills.

She’s here, on the train, watching you. Your ex/soon-to-be fiancée is staring at you as your face is getting kissed by someone else. The emotions on her face inform you that she is jealous, shocked, and angry. You want to explain but there’s no time. She steps off the train and you curse silently. You quickly and quietly ask the girl where she lives and she gives you an address that you commit to memory. You tell her you’ll see her later. When you exit the train, you see her sitting alone on a bench and her eyes are closed. Your heart drops. You know she can feel you walking towards her in the way her body reacts. You whisper “Sorry, baby,” before running up the stairs behind the bench and exiting the station, your lungs burning with anger at yourself, the situation, the people you work for. 

When you get on another train, you almost expect to see her again. You don’t. You show up at the apartment of the girl and fulfill the assignment. When you return to your place, you shower and text Carolyn. Despite being done with almost a year of work, you feel empty. Gutted. The opposite of celebratory.

You fall asleep.

She doesn’t show up in your dream.

“But we were something, don’t you think so? Roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool. And if my wishes came true, it would’ve been you.”

IV.

Irina asks you if it is okay that she invited Eve to her birthday party. You tell her yes because you would love to see her. 

“Even though you two are no longer together?,” Irina asks, surprise underlying her voice.

“Yes.”

“Adults are weird,” she plainly states.

You agree.

You don’t think she will show up because you are sure she knows you will be in attendance but she does. Your eyes find hers the second you walk through the door with a cake as large as Konstantin’s appetite.

Her hair is down and she is wearing a white suit. She looks like a dream. You bite your lip and Irina yells in your face, wanting you to set the cake down so you can meet her “cool friends.” Before you walk away, Konstantin grabs her. Both of you turn in opposite directions.

You see her again when it’s time for Irina to cut the cake and thank God for Irina because you know she has dragged you to the cake table on purpose, hoping both of you will talk to each other and kiss and make up. Suddenly you feel shy, knowing she is so close. You make a stupid joke to Irina’s friends and they laugh, affirming what you already knew: that you have a very good sense of humor. You turn towards the cake and she is staring at you intently, on the other side of Irina, a small smile on her soft lips. You raise an eyebrow and think of a witty thing to say before your phone vibrates in your pocket and you have to take the call, swearing beneath your breath before you hit the green button to accept it.

You don’t bother finding her again to say goodbye because you know it will hurt more that way. So you walk out the backdoor and disappear into the night. After picking up the payment for your last assignment from Carolyn, you walk by her apartment building. Her light is off. You know you could easily break in but you don’t want to scare her. You finger her engagement ring in the pocket of your pants and walk back to your place alone.

You dream of her beneath you. You lick icing from her collarbone and you’ve never tasted cake so sweet. When you wake up, you realize the dream was a memory.

"We were something, don’t you think so? Rosé flowing with your chosen family and it would’ve been sweet if it could’ve been me."

V.

There are too many people at Elena’s engagement party who are vying for your attention with her. Every time you think there is an opportunity to speak to her, another friend or coworker or former coworker or relative prevents you from doing so, pulling her from one room to another. You see her holding a baby and your heart feels like an animal caught in a metal trap. She looks divine. She looks calm. Something about her holding a baby does something to you. You want that with her. When you hear her humming a lullaby you recognize from one of the Korean language YouTube videos you recently watched, you decide to hum along, too. Her eyes register surprise and you know she wants to ask you how you know that song but then the mother of the baby has returned and the moment to say something is up and you know you have to leave if you want to meet Konstantin by six. 

“You look good,” you say, meaning every word, wanting to draw her close and kiss each letter down her neck.

Before she can reply, your feet drag you to the door and you hug Elena goodbye. You don’t need to turn around to know she’s still watching you.

She is holding a baby when you dream of her and joy is streaming from her limbs like light.

The ache in your chest seems bigger when you wake up.

"In my defense, I have none for digging the grave another time. But it would’ve been fun if you would’ve been the one."

VI.

A week before the funeral…

Irina is the one who tells you the bad news. Konstantin had another heart attack and was found on the floor of his bedroom, hand over his chest. That asshole. He should have waited until you and Eve got married, at least. You cry in your apartment because you know he cared about you, in his own weird way, and you cared about him, too, in your own weird way. She taught you that. If she hadn’t entered your life, you probably would have killed him with your bare hands.

You cry over the last message he texted you: “She will come back. Wait and see. And I can’t wait to tell you I told you so. Stop being so upset. You’re not fun when you’re depressed. Irina is even worried about you and she doesn’t worry about anyone, not even her tired old man.”

You pull out the black suit you wore to your wedding to whats-her-face from your closet and hang it behind your door. You pick out a pair of sunglasses and set aside earrings, necklace, a Cartier watch. You handle the watch, remembering Konstantin’s incessant complaints when you dragged him with you to the store to buy it after he gave you your first paycheck. You take all the postcards he ever handed to you and burn them in your kitchen sink. You feel like your heart is hammering against your body and what if you die from a heart attack, too? You sit down and wonder what Eve would tell you to do if she was sitting next to you. She would tell you to write to him.

You find a blank Paris postcard and start writing.

I always thought you would outlive me, popping up whenever and wherever I least expected you to. You taught me how to be a ghost. You were my family, besides Eve. I’m sorry I never told you. I’m glad you introduced me to her. I think you knew, even when you were telling me to give her up, that we were destined to be together. Well, guess what? I’m ready to win her back now. I’ll take care of Irina and make sure she doesn’t kill someone. Although she never admitted it to your face, you were the love of her life. She always tried to impress you but I always beat her to it (you know how much I hate to lose). Come and haunt me and Eve at our wedding. She’d get a kick out of that. Until we meet again (in hell) - Villanelle, xx

By the time you’re done writing, your entire face is wet with tears. You pick up your phone and text Irina to ask her what kind of cake she wants at the funeral reception. 

“Anything but chocolate,” she replies. “Animals are allergic to chocolate.”

“You don’t have any pets.”

“Well, I might get upset at my mother and throw the cake out the front door. I don’t want animals to eat it and die.”

“Good point. I will text you the number of the bakery. Place an order for what you want and I will pick it up. What are you doing?”

“Listening to music very loudly and pissing off the neighbors. My mother is going to have a heart attack. If I do not show up at my dad’s funeral, know that she killed me.”

“Turn the music down. Your eardrums will break. And do not get killed. I don’t have the energy for a double funeral.”

“Yes, mother.”

“Talk to you tomorrow.”

“I called Eve and told her about my dad. She was crying. Maybe you should call her and stop being stupid. Children play games and you’re too old to be a child.”

"Yes, mother."

You set your phone down on the table and stretch out on the couch. You think of her crying over Konstantin’s passing and you text Elena who tells you she is holding her in bed. You thank god or whatever divine presence exists because Elena is truly incomparable. You make a mental note to buy her a very nice gift the next time you see her.

You fall asleep and this time, you dream of Konstantin. Both of you are in your old apartment in Paris. He is grinning at you like a maniac over a plate filled with food. He stabs a sausage and points the fork at you, making circles in the air. “I am a matchmaker, no? Give me some credit and don’t forget about me when you and this Eve Polastri woman finally meet. Maybe then you will stop talking about her.” He guffaws, his laughter ricocheting around the room like a stray bullet. 

You wake up crying, his laughter still ringing in your ears.

"And it’s another day waking up alone."

The day of the funeral…

You pick up the cake from the bakery and drop it off at Konstantin’s house before breaking up an argument between Konstantin’s ex-wife and Irina and pulling Irina into your car. She is silent on the way to the graveyard and silent during the funeral proceedings. You’re glad you are wearing your sunglasses because you look like shit after crying all night and missing your morning alarm. 

You notice her watching you on the other side of the graveyard plot where Konstantin’s coffin lies. She is wearing a black dress and her hair is down. You want to wave but Irina is asking you about something and you can’t make out what she is saying because your ears are thrumming with Konstantin’s voice. 

“Give her what she wants, Villanelle, or she will get into your car and run you over!”

You want to smile at how he probably would say something exactly like that but then Irina is turning to face you, pulling on the collar of your jacket and demanding you take her home or she’ll have to pee in the spot where she’s standing and then her dad would come back from hell and haunt her.

“Let’s go home then,” you hiss. “Stop being disrespectful,” you scold her, softening your voice a little because you know she’s in pain.

When you walk into the house, there is complete and utter chaos. Your head is pounding and you want to make a cup of tea. You watch Irina run upstairs and hear her slam her bedroom door closed. You walk into the kitchen and almost expect to see him there, standing over the sink and eating a peach, juice running down his chin and across the countertop. The way he ate food sometimes, like plates didn’t exist. Asshole. Or as she would say, Dick.

You grab the kettle and turn on the stove and realize the kettle is empty. You turn towards the sink so you can fill it up with water but the lid won’t come off and now this is fucking ridiculous because who leaves a kettle on top of the stove if it’s broken?

“You asshole!,” you exclaim in Russian, thinking of him and his stupid smirk.

Suddenly, she’s next to you and your anger subsides. You can feel her palm against your body and she’s turning off the stove and taking the kettle away from you.

She doesn’t need to ask you to follow her, she just slips her hand in yours and pulls you along. She drags you into the guest bedroom and for a second you wonder if she’s just pulling you in there so she can have funeral sex. You’ve heard that it’s a thing but you didn’t think it would be her thing. Unless she thinks it’s your thing and she wants to make you feel better and if that’s the case, that would be oddly romantic.

She walks over to the bed and lies down on top of the covers, patting the space next to her. You obey her silent command and you don’t even realize you’re crying until she removes your sunglasses and caresses your cheeks. 

The worried and distressed look on her face is one she has given you many times before and you feel comforted, slightly, to know that at least that look hasn’t changed. You want to crawl into the basin of her eyes and sleep there. You feel like you’ve been running ever since she asked you to leave and maybe you have, fleeing anything that reminded you of her. But everything reminded you of her. You documented your travels in a scrapbook hoping to have the chance to hand it to her one day so you could show her the photos you took, all those moments where you thought “I wish you were here” (it was every moment).

She asks if you’re okay and you motion No.

When she apologizes to you, you exhale sharply. You don’t have to ask if she means it because you know she does. She moves closer and you’re no longer afraid of scaring her away or of being too much. She doesn’t even care that you’re crying. Instead, she leans forward and kisses you and you’re melting beneath her touch. Feeling courageous, you slip your tongue between her lips and her responding moan signals that you made the right decision. You’ve missed her lips and the sounds she makes and the way her body makes yours feel like a firework headed straight into the mouth of the sky. If you were competing with the stars, you know you would win. 

“I am sorry as well,” you whisper and you rest your forehead against hers, a move she used to love whenever she would feel upset over something and you wanted to calm her down. 

You almost smile when she starts to speak again because you can see the train of her thoughts running through her mind as she continues.“I am sorry for cutting off the engagement and kicking you out and calling you a liar. I am so sorry for these last ten months. I have wasted our time together.”

You remember your proposal, how she shrieked “Yes” into your ear after you stood up and carried her into the waiting bus and the driver took you two for a private tour around London. You don’t remember where the bus went because you were too busy going down on her in the back row, feeling emboldened by her promise of forever. The memory rushes your heart like water and you squint your eyes closed. Her next question shocks them into opening.

“Do you still love me?”

She seems shy and hesitant, almost like she is expecting a negative response. 

Your heart expands and maybe it has become malleable overnight, like silly putty someone is stretching out between their fingers.

“I never stopped,” you reply, kissing her to confirm.

“Even though I did all of those horrible things?,” she challenges, eyebrows raised, eyes containing slivers of sadness.

You want to kiss the sides of her eyes where her tears are collecting and tell her to stop worrying but you know she won’t. So you intertwine your hands together and squeeze hers gently. 

“You did those things because you were worried about me and because you loved me back,” you state, remembering when she kicked you out. You know that if you texted her and told her you were in trouble any time over the last ten months, she would have scoured the ends of the earth and found you.

“I still love you.” 

Her comment interrupts your thoughts.

“What?”

“You used past tense. I never stopped loving you. I still love you and am in love with you.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

You wonder if she’s slept with anyone else, especially after she saw you with that girl on the train. You hope she hasn’t.

“You haven’t...? There hasn’t been anyone else?,” you spit out, hating how scratchy your voice sounds.

“Nobody.”

Relief floods your mind like headlights and you squeeze her hands even tighter.

“Oh.”

She must note the relief in your voice because she’s asking you to come home with her tonight and now your heart is doing somersaults.

“Yes,” you answer, knowing there’s only one right answer and that is it.

“I want to marry you, if the question still stands.”

You pause for a second, almost thinking you imagined she said she wanted to marry you. But then you notice her quivering bottom lip and her wondering eyes exploring your face inquisitively. 

“It does,” you reply hesitantly, hoping she did ask what you think she did.

“You didn’t throw away the rings, did you?”

Your heart resumes beating and you shake your head, No.

The next few questions she asks are about Konstantin and you don’t really remember what was said because the pain is too overwhelming.

“Did you know we were going to talk today?”

Her honesty still surprises you. Nobody has ever cared about you enough to be honest with you before. Except Konstantin.

You remember Konstantin’s assurance that you and her would find your way back to each other and you can picture him smiling when you reply.

“Me and you, we are inevitable. I knew we would find our way back to each other, I just didn’t know when. I didn’t want to force you into anything.”

“You would never force me because I would want to. Oksana—“

The sound of “Oksana” on her lips makes you pause and you stop talking.

“Let me go first. I’ve missed you. A lot. My life has been empty without you. I love you and I’m sorry. Really. I know my apology won’t bring back the time we lost, but...”

She still thinks she needs to convince you to return to her, as if you ever truly considered leaving and not looking back (you didn’t). So you interrupt her and start talking just as forcibly.

“Eve, I already said I would come back tonight. I’m not going anywhere. I’m done working for Hélène. I killed everyone who needed to be taken care of. She never found out I was a double agent for Carolyn. You were right. It was very dangerous and I almost died three times. I should have told you I was working for them both but I didn’t want you to get involved. I knew you would come after me if I told you the truth from the beginning. But you found out anyway and we both know what happened after that but it’s okay now. We’re free. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. I’m all yours.”

“I’m all yours,” she says back.

You resume crying. She’s yours. She admitted it. And now she’s kissing you back. You want to take her back to her flat and away from this guest room where Konstantin’s ghost is probably striding around with a smug smile. Pervert. So you do. You pull her off the bed and it seems like seconds later that you’re pushing her onto hers after removing her clothes and letting her remove yours. 

She runs her fingers across your scars and you recognize the questioning behind her eyes. You know you will tell her more later because you have time now. You let her stroke your hair and hold your head in her lap and you know that if Konstantin were alive, you would sneak away to her bathroom and text him about the very loud and passionate sex you’re about to have with your soon-to-be wife and he would tell you to stop being so gross. You weep because you know you will never be able to text him again or show up unannounced at his house and scare him half to death when he realizes you’re lying next to him in bed. 

Suddenly you remember the cake and groan because you didn’t grab two pieces on your way out of his house. You really hope Irina doesn’t throw it out into the garden when her mother is not looking.

“We didn’t take any cake from the reception. I don’t even know what flavor Irina chose. I told her to go with vanilla sponge cake and buttercream icing.”

Eve laughs and you like how her laughter still sounds like it is drenched in honey. 

She tells you that she will bake you a cake later before adding, “I love cake but I love you more.”

You grin because you remember the recent dream you had about her last birthday and you know she remembers too, how you ate cake off of her nipples and her navel and her thighs.

You repeat the words back to her and Konstantin’s voice is back in your head telling you to get her engagement ring and present it to her again because now is the perfect time for the grand gesture.

So you pull your body away from hers and retrieve her ring from your suit jacket. Her eyes are shimmering when you return to the bed and she is even holding her hand expectantly. You don’t even need to ask her the question. The ring easily slides back onto her finger where it belongs.

She searches your palm for your ring but then her eyes notice it on your finger, where it’s always been.

“Have you been wearing that since…?”

“Since you placed it on my finger? Yes.”

“And you carried mine with you, wherever you went?”

“Yes. In case I had the chance to propose to you again. It was my most prized possession,” you proclaim.

The Konstantin in your head is grinning now, widely and wildly, a laugh bubbling up in his chest.

“God, I’m such an idiot,” she huffs, hitting her forehead with her hand. 

The image startles you and reminds you of your brother.

You hurriedly pull her hand away. 

“No, you’re not. You were trying to protect me and I loved you for doing that even though it hurt.”

“I can’t wait to be your wife,” she announces, her voice low. 

You can feel the electricity between your bodies and then she sings lyrics from a song she knows you love, sending sparks up your spine.

Your eyes graze over her neck when she stops kissing yours and your tongue licks the groove of her throat, eliciting a small moan.

You just want to hold her so you sit against the headboard (you’ve missed that damn thing) and pull her against you, both of your bodies fully naked and fully present. You brush your fingers down her stomach before clenching them around it.

When she whispers, “I’ve been waiting for this moment,” you want to cry. 

“I wanted to kiss you every time I saw you,” you confess unabashedly.

Which is true, you did. And every time you didn’t see her.

“Me too,” she says.

You wonder if she wanted to kiss you when she saw you on the train, being kissed by that girl.

So you ask, “Even when I was on the train?”

She nods, “Yes, even then.”

You don’t want to ruin the moment by telling her the girl was a target (you will tell her later so she knows you were not involved with anyone during your time apart).

You apologize.

“I know.”

You add, “She didn’t mean anything.”

“I know.”

You think mentioning Elena will comfort her. “Elena has been updating me on how you have been doing.”

“She has?”

She sounds surprised and you hope you didn’t frighten her with this unexpected piece of information.

“Yes.”

“So that’s how you knew we would be at that restaurant?”

Shit. Did you make a mistake telling her? You don’t have time to deflect and honestly, you don’t want to do that with her so you keep being honest.

“Yes. You looked good when you were running that one day, by the way.”

She grins and kisses your hand, diminishing your anxiety with a small but sweet gesture.

“You were at the bus stop so you could watch me exercise? You weren’t actually reading a book??”

So she did notice you.

“Yes and no, of course not. Your ass looked good in those leggings.”

You laugh and kiss her neck, nibbling it for good measure.

“You bought those for me.”

You nod because you remember.

You tell her you remember everything.

“Me too,” she says.

And there he is again, the Konstantin in your mind, doubled over and laughing hysterically.

"Konstantin was right, that pain in my ass,” you grumble affectionately.

"Right about what?"

"About us."

You know she knows what you’re talking about, how he always knew you would get back together.

"What an asshole."

She’s lifting her hand like she’s holding a champagne flute, so you join her and make a toast to the most valuable person you have ever known: "To Konstantin!"

You ask her if she wants to sleep and she nods.

“Do you want anything to eat or drink?”

She says no.

You adjust your body so she can lie her head against your chest, her favorite position, and you tangle your fingers in her hair, one of yours.

You fall asleep and dream that you and him are back in your beloved apartment in Paris. You are dressed up like him and you dance and he laughs and then you grab his hands and he dances, too.

The next morning...

After making love to her three different times, you lie on your back and listen to her humming in the shower. You drift in and out of sleep and he’s there again, waiting for you in your dream world. He’s wearing a tuxedo and holding out his arm. He looks healthy and happy. You link your arm in his and he turns his head to hold your gaze. 

“Congratulations, Oksana,” he says, motioning towards your ring.

You smile giddily and squeeze his arm.

“I’m going to bother Dasha now. She won’t stop following me around. I think she has been lonely. Will you be okay?”

“Yes.”

“You will take care of the little shit?” 

His eyes gleam mischievously. 

“Both of us will.”

He starts to walk off but turns, suddenly. “The cake was marble, by the way. And it was very, very good.”

Asshole.

He winks and then he’s gone.

You wake up crying and she’s lying on top of your body smelling like rain, wearing one of your t-shirts and underwear.

“Did you have a bad dream?,” she asks, kissing you on the cheek.

You shake your head, No.

“It was a nice one. Konstantin was there and congratulating us on our second engagement.”

“That sounds beautiful. Did you know he told me we would get back together after Irina’s party?”

“He did??” 

You scrunch up your eyebrows and narrow your eyes, sending the Konstantin in your head a message: So you were talking to her, you sneaky man!

She giggles and kisses the area between your eyebrows and your expression changes.

“I called him when I got home. I was upset because you left and I had wanted to talk to you. And feed you some cake. He was laughing his ass off, actually, and I couldn’t figure out why. He mentioned that you would be performing some grand gesture soon and asked me to wait for it so I did. And you did.”

You smile and shake your head.

“I always will.”

“Welcome home, Oksana.”

You kiss her, your mouth pressing against hers hungrily, and she moans your name.

“We can stop if you’re too tired,” you say, pulling away.

“I’m not tired. Are you tired??”

“Are you questioning my sexual prowess?,” you quirk an eyebrow and scoff, trying to look horrified.

“Oh, God.”

“Yes?”

“I would never question that,” she purrs, her mouth hovering over yours.

“Let’s celebrate our second engagement then,” you whisper into her mouth, eyes unmoving from hers.

“Let’s go, tiger. Show me what you’ve got,” she smirks playfully, sitting back on her haunches, both legs secured tightly around your waist. 

You pull her towards you and murmur against her ear, “You’re so cheesy.” 

She kisses you and you let her pin you down against the mattress. She raises your hands on either side of your head and you hold onto hers, clenching her fingers.

Your eyes fall upon the ring on her finger reminding you that she’s yours and your heart swells like an ocean after a thunderstorm.

“Thank you, matchmaker,” you whisper to Konstantin in your head.

He smiles broadly after tipping an imaginary hat. “What did I tell you? I am always right.” 

He disappears and you know you probably won’t see him for awhile but it’s okay because you have her again and she has you.

Inevitable.

“And if you never bleed, you’re never gonna grow. And it’s alright now.”


	3. "Mirrorball"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Villanelle and Eve move in together after getting married. Irina comes over to help unpack. Surprising information is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from Taylor's song of the same name.
> 
> Video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KaM1bCuG4xo
> 
> Lyrics:
> 
> [Verse 1]  
> I want you to know  
> I'm a mirrorball  
> I'll show you every version of yourself tonight  
> I'll get you out on the floor  
> Shimmering beautiful  
> And when I break, it's in a million pieces
> 
> [Chorus]  
> Hush, when no one is around, my dear  
> You'll find me on my tallest tiptoes  
> Spinning in my highest heels, love  
> Shining just for you  
> Hush, I know they said the end is near  
> But I'm still on my tallest tiptoes  
> Spinning in my highest heels, love  
> Shining just for you
> 
> [Verse 2]  
> I want you to know  
> I'm a mirrorball  
> I can change everything about me to fit in  
> You are not like the regulars  
> The masquerade revelers  
> Drunk as they watch my shattered edges glisten
> 
> [Chorus]  
> Hush, when no one is around, my dear  
> You'll find me on my tallest tiptoes  
> Spinning in my highest heels, love  
> Shining just for you  
> Hush, I know they said the end is near  
> But I'm still on my tallest tiptoes  
> Spinning in my highest heels, love  
> Shining just for you
> 
> [Bridge]  
> And they called off the circus, burned the disco down  
> When they sent home the horses and the rodeo clowns  
> I'm still on that tightrope  
> I'm still trying everything to get you laughing at me  
> And I'm still a believer, but I don't know why  
> I've never been a natural, all I do is try, try, try  
> I'm still on that trapeze  
> I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me
> 
> [Outro]  
> Because I'm a mirrorball  
> I'm a mirrorball  
> And I'll show you every version of yourself tonight

Six months later…

"You'll find me on my tallest tiptoes  
Spinning in my highest heels, love  
Shining just for you."  


You set down the last moving box in your house, yours and Eve’s, and look around your bedroom. She has already placed a photo of the two of you on the bedside table and you pick it up, smiling. 

“What are you looking at?,” she asks, sneaking up behind you and slipping her arms around your waist. You dip your head backwards to glance at her. She’s wearing the oversized Taylor Swift t-shirt she bought for you at her concert (even though she bought one too, she loves wearing your clothes and you don’t mind appreciating how good she looks in them) and denim shorts.

“Us.”

“We looked so good that day.”

The day she is referring to is the day you went to city hall to get married. Both of you wanted to get married as soon as possible after Konstantin’s passing and somehow managed to get your wish, two weeks after the funeral, when another couple had to cancel their appointment. You think he had something to do with that and thank him for continuing to meddle in your affairs. She cried when you gave her the scrapbook filled with photos and postcards addressed to her. You cried when she gave you the ring she wore on her finger to replace your engagement ring. “I wore this after I gave you the ring you bought for me back. I still wanted to feel like I belonged to you. I hope that’s okay.” “It’s beautiful. Thank you. I’m going to put it on a necklace and wear it around my neck.” 

Your hand moves to touch the ring and she walks around you to face you.

You bend down and kiss her, sending her an infinite amount of thank yous for taking you back and for remaining committed to you and waiting for you to return.

“I’m going to make pancakes. Do you want coffee?,” she asks.

“Yes please. I told Irina I’d pick her up and bring her here, is that okay?”

“Of course.”

“How are you feeling?”

Your eyes and hands move to her belly and she kisses you deeply, understanding exactly what you’re asking.

“Feeling better today than I was last night. Thank you for being there for us.”

“Please don’t move anything too heavy. I don’t want you to overexert yourself.”

“I won’t.”

“Irina and I can do it. We’re very strong, you know.” 

You release her from your body and raise your arms on either side of your head, flexing your biceps and wiggling your eyebrows in jest.

“Mmm, I know how strong you are. It’s very sexy, baby,” she runs her hands across your arms, instantly igniting feelings of arousal between your legs.

“Speaking of being sexy…” Your eyes drift over to the freshly made bed (it was the first thing you set up in the bedroom, naturally).

“Are you trying to ask me something?” She looks at you and leans against the bed, crossing her legs in front of her and wearing a suggestive smile.

You groan and walk over to her, sliding your arms around her body so your hands clasp behind the base of her back.

“If I asked, would you say yes?,” your murmur into her ear, hands moving beneath her shirt, up her back, and stopping over her shoulder blades. You grin as her hands find your hipbones beneath the waistband of your pants.

“Every single time,” she answers and lifts her head to kiss your mouth, letting you remove her shirt and push her gently onto the bed.

Two hours and another shower later, Irina is helping you unpack boxes in the living room. She is wearing the tailored pants you took her out to buy the other week and a collared floral shirt of Konstantin’s she found in his closet from when he younger. She looks good, albeit tired. You and Eve have been texting her and even Elena has joined in. You know she has a decent group of friends but you still worry about how she is doing on a daily basis since she reminds you so much of your younger self. You remember being so lonely at her age and even though you didn’t have parents who cared about you, you know how lost she must feel without Konstantin around.

“So.”

“So?,” you reply, eyes glancing at Irina’s cheeky expression.

“Have you and your wife had sex yet???”

“Yes, we have sex every day and night. Lots and lots of it. Especially on the couch you are leaning against.”

“EW. My ears are bleeding!!!,” she screams, throwing a pillow at your face and bolting forward, away from the couch.

“One day you will fall in love and then you will be asking me for my advice. Since I am very good at sex, I give the best advice.”

“Love doesn’t exist. My dad told me that.”

“Your dad said a lot of stupid things. That was one of them.”

“Did you love him?” Her voice is quieter and the room suddenly feels smaller.

“Yes,” you reply, swallowing down the grief threatening to show itself. “Did you?”

She picks at a fiber on the carpet and nods.

“You know. In addition to giving very good advice, sex related or not, Eve tells me I give the best hugs.”

“You want to hug me?,” she asks, not looking up.

“I don’t want to but my arms do.”

She rolls her eyes when she returns your gaze and crawls over to where you are sitting. You pull her towards you and hug her and pretend you don’t hear her sniffle into your shoulder.

Eve walks into the room from the kitchen and tiptoes back out.

“Do you want to watch Lion King with us later?”

“Really, you are watching Disney movies now?”

Irina pulls away from you and scoffs, wiping her nose with the back of her hand, an incredulous look on her face.

“What is wrong with Disney movies? They have the best soundtracks.”

“Is this what married people do? Move in together and be booooring?”

“Don’t call me and my wife boring. I might be but my wife isn’t.” You tickle her sides and she bursts out laughing. Eve walks back into the room, a smile on her face.

“Irina, I must save you from the tickling machine and drag you into the kitchen for brunch.”

Irina stands up quickly and smoothes out her hair before running her hands down her shirt and pants. You raise your eyebrows at Eve.

Is she trying to look nice for your very sexy wife? Huh. You don’t blame her. Maybe she’ll come to you and ask you for advice about her sexuality before she asks again about sex.

You send a message to Konstantin: “Don’t worry, old man, I am very experienced in both topics and will be able to talk to her. I can handle it. You wouldn’t have been able to, though. You would have died from a heart attack if you had been alive for this stage of her life. Or you would have tried to kill her but she would have killed you first. She is very fast. She probably could beat me in assassin-like activities although I would never tell her that. She is already too big-headed...”

Irina marches into the kitchen, face flushed, and you stand up and smoothe your own outfit out before Eve grabs you by the waist and kisses you. She slides her hands up the back of her Yale t-shirt that you’re wearing. It fits her well but on you, stops just above your hipbones. She doesn’t care and says she enjoys you unintentionally flashing her whenever the shirt rides up. 

“What are you thinking about?,” she asks, laughing lightly. “You always push your eyebrows together when you’re thinking. It’s very cute.”

“I was just telling Konstantin I can talk to Irina about sex and sexuality, if necessary.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes. Since I am an expert at both, obviously,” you say with conviction, puffing out your chest for good measure.

“Do you think Irina...?”

“She was trying impress you…” Your eyes narrow but your tone is affectionate and Eve knows this.

Her hands tighten around your neck and she giggles in response to your huff. “I only have eyes for you,” she teases, leaving a kiss at the base of your throat.

“Are you two having sex??!!,” Irina calls out.

Eve bursts out laughing and you playfully squeeze her ass, pushing your hips against hers.

Konstantin’s voice echoes in your mind: “Tell her sex does not exist. She does not ever need to have it. She will only get hurt.”

“You want me to turn her into a nun?,” you reply, following Eve into the kitchen and letting her hold your hand.

“That’s the first good idea you have ever had,” Konstantin’s voice answers back in a gruff tone.

“Shut up, old man,” you grin before sitting down next to his disgruntled daughter and messing up her hair.

She eyes you and Eve with suspicion but gets up quickly to help Eve bring coffee, pancakes, and syrup to the kitchen counter.

You take the plates from Irina and wink at her appreciatively. 

She sticks out her tongue at you but blushes when Eve glances in her direction.

“Thanks for making pancakes,” Irina mumbles, eyes focused on her food.

“You’re welcome,” Eve replies, smiling softly at your faux frown.

“Are you staying to watch a movie with us?,” Eve asks, reaching over you for the pancake plate.

“Yes,” Irina replies, too quickly, almost choking.

“What are we watching?” Eve looks over at you and squeezes your thigh.

“Lion King,” Irina announces.

“I love that movie,” Eve grins.

Eve looks over at you again and you wink before saying, “It was Irina’s choice.”

“HEY!!! I will kill you with my fork!”

“Go ahead,” you reply calmly, swallowing a forkful of food. Wiggling your eyebrows and turning slightly towards Eve you add, “She picked it because of its sexy scenes.”

Irina moves like she’s going to jump over Eve and attack you but Eve’s arm forces her to sit back down.

“Let’s not kill each other in the kitchen,” Eve hurriedly pipes up, unable to hide the growing smile on her lips.

“Okay. We will wait until we move into the garage. Easier to clean up,” you reply, matter-of-factly.

Irina turns her head to look at you and nod, accepting the challenge. Her cheeks are puffed out from the sheer amount of food in her mouth and she looks like she is struggling to swallow all of it. Maple syrup drips down her chin and onto the counter.

You laugh when you realize she isn’t a fan of plates either, just like her father. The little shit.

Konstantin’s voice returns, louder than ever. “She loves Lion King, don’t let her fool you into thinking otherwise. She cries when Mufasa dies so make sure you have a box of tissue paper ready. By the way, congratulations on the baby. I hope she has your wife’s looks and intelligence and maybe your sense of humor and style.”

“She?,” you gasp.

“Oh. Did you not know you were having a girl?”

He chuckles and you picture his eyes glinting.

“Konstantin, Eve isn’t even showing yet. Of course you knew we did not know! I am sure you can see everything, even the hot sex.”

“Oops,” he says, trying to sound apologetic and you imagine him shrugging casually.

“Asshole!”

Eve squeezes your thigh and you look at her, mouth agape. 

“Are you okay?,” she asks softly, eyes traveling around the entirety of your face before settling back down on yours.

“Yes,” you say quietly, your eyes moving to her belly.

“I know who is in there. He told me.”

“He did??”

“Do you want to know?”

“Yes.”

“Our baby girl.”

“Oh my god…” Eve stands up, shock and joy on her face.

“You’re having a baby??!!,” Irina shrieks and you almost fall out of your chair. Instead, you stand up and pull Eve towards you, mouths crashing. Her tears are mixing with yours and you laugh as Irina parades around the kitchen, her hand at her lips, tooting an imaginary horn.

“I am going to be the best godmother ever!,” she proclaims, punching her other hand into the air.

You look at Eve and smile through your tears. “Do you want to tell her Elena is godmother or..?”

“Our baby can have two,” Eve replies, turning her head to look at Irina. She turns back to look up at you. “Congratulations, baby. We did it.”

“Congratulations, baby. You did most of it. I’m so proud of you. I can’t wait for our baby to be born.”

“Me neither. She’s going to be surrounded by all of these people who love her.”

“She’s got the best omma in the world.”

“And the best dad.” Eve squeezes your waist and you’re crying again.

“Married people cry a lot and watch movies…,” Irina states, observing you and Eve from the other side of the counter.

“Who are you talking to?,” you ask her, eyes scanning the kitchen.

“My dad. He’s telling me to leave the room now before you two have sex on the counter.”

Eve’s mouth falls open and the both of you watch as Irina turns on her heel, a smug smile on her face. She marches out of the kitchen and into the living room where she plops down on the couch and throws her feet up on the coffee table.

“I thought he was only talking to me but I guess he’s just making his rounds,” you say gruffly, trying not to cry even more.

“Don’t be jealous. You know you were, slash, are, his favorite asshole,” Eve laughs, standing on her tiptoes to kiss your forehead.

“Am I your favorite asshole?,” you quirk both eyebrows at her.

“Yep. You’re forever my favorite asshole.”

“So romantic,” you scoff, rolling your eyes, kissing the smirk off her lips with your own.

You follow Eve into the living room and the two of you sit on either side of Irina who regards you with caution. When she turns her head back towards Eve you notice her looking at Eve’s belly curiously. 

Perhaps she’ll ask you about how she became pregnant and you’ll detail the procedure behind IVF and how surprisingly successful it was on the first round (you think Konstantin had something to do with that). Maybe one day, just not today. For now, you pop in the Lion King DVD and hit play after remembering to grab a box of tissues from the bathroom.

You think you hear a thank you in his voice but it’s so low you can barely hear it, even if it’s his voice in your head. You put your arm on the back of the couch and tickle Eve’s neck with your fingers. She slips her own arm behind Irina’s neck to brush her fingers across your bicep and you gaze at the wedding band on her finger.

“No. Thank you, matchmaker,” you think silently and turn your face forward to watch the screen.

"I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me.  
Because I'm a mirrorball,  
I'm a mirrorball.  
And I'll show you every version of yourself tonight."


	4. "Electric Feel"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irina and Villanelle cry from "The Lion King." Irina blames allergies. Elena comes over and an arm wrestling match between her and Irina for godmother title ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from MGMT song of the same name.
> 
> Video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BjiEQ9gZmxs
> 
> Lyrics:  
> All along the western front, people line up to receive  
> She got the power in her hands to shock you like you won't believe  
> Saw her in the Amazon with the voltage running through her skin   
> Standing there with nothing on, she's gonna teach me how to swim 
> 
> Ooh girl, shock me like an electric eel   
> Baby girl, turn me on with your electric feel   
> (x2)
> 
> All along the eastern shore, put your circuits in the sea   
> This is what the world is for, making electricity   
> You can feel it in your mind   
> Oh you can do it all the time   
> Plug it in and change the world   
> You are my electric girl
> 
> Ooh girl, shock me like an electric eel   
> Baby girl, turn me on with your electric feel   
> (x2)
> 
> Do what you feel now   
> Electric feel now

By the time the movie ends, both Irina and Villanelle have red-rimmed eyes and a bunch of used tissues on the coffee table in front of their respective seats on the couch. You smile to yourself when you catch Villanelle wiping away one more tear and mumbling about how Mufasa didn’t have to die. You try to reach around Irina to squeeze Villanelle’s arm but Irina turns to you suddenly and mumbles that she has allergies and needs to use the bathroom. She abruptly stands up and disappears around the corner, taking the almost-empty tissue box with her.

“Are you okay?,” you ask Villanelle who scoots over to you and slings her arm around your neck, affectionately grabbing your hair with her hand. Her other hand finds your belly and she leans forward to kiss it before planting a kiss on your lips. 

You smile because you think it’s adorable, the belly kisses, but also because you can taste the salt from her tears. 

“Did you like the movie?,” you ask gently.

She shakes her head, a solemn expression on her face. “I don’t like it when my favorite character dies.”

“Mufasa is your favorite and not..Rafiki? Or Nala?”

“I liked Mufasa. He was wise, like you are. Should we call our baby Simba?”

You laugh against her lips and pull your face away from hers so you can look at her in the eyes. “We are not naming our child Simba.”

“It’s a cute name!,” she pouts. “And I want to put a picture of a baby lion in the baby’s room somewhere so she can be fierce and strong.”

“Baby, I’m sure you’ll encourage her to be both of those things, picture of Simba or not.”

“Are you making fun of me?”

“No,” you laugh, pulling her in for another kiss because her slightly confused expression is too cute to ignore.

“I just really love how invested you are in our baby already.”

“Let’s go shopping for some cute clothes now. Unless baby you and belly baby are tired…?”

“Yes, I’m feeling tired today. Let’s rest today and go tomorrow. Are you going to drop Irina home or does she want to stay the night?”

“I can stay over. I do not want to deal with my mother. She is going to give me a heart attack and bury my body in the garden so she doesn’t have to pay for my funeral,” Irina scoffs, eyeing Villanelle’s proximity to you.

You grin and stands up. “I’m going to make some tea. Does anybody want anything?”

“You,” Villanelle replies cheekily, throwing you a wink and ignoring Irina’s eye roll.

“Besides that?”

“Coffee?”

“Okay. Irina?”

“Um, coffee.”

“Since when did you start to drink coffee?,” Villanelle asks, throwing her arm around Irina’s shoulders and smirking when Irina shudders dramatically in response.

“I have been drinking coffee for ages. I’m not a child.”

“You’re nine,” Villanelle replies nonchalantly.

“I AM FOURTEEN!,” Irina yells. 

You pop your head around the kitchen doorway and throw Villanelle a look.

“Nine, fourteen, those are bad ages to be a child.”

Irina groans and kicks her feet up on the coffee table.

“Feet down. Now come help me unpack some more boxes. Your muscles are weakening. I bet I can beat you in an arm wrestling match.”

“How much are we betting?,” Irina asks, her voice challenging.

“Ten pounds per arm,” Villanelle replies, moving aside the books on the table to make room.

“Baby, please be careful…,” you call out, bringing the mugs of coffee into the living room and placing them on the console where the television is.

Villanelle grins at your warning and shakes Irina’s hand before both place their right elbows on the table and start the match.

Second later, Irina is yelping out in pain and Villanelle is positively beaming.

“Why don’t you let her win the next one?,” you mouth to Villanelle, a little concerned at how gleeful she is but happy that her tears from a few seconds ago have been replaced.

Irina looks over at you and narrows her eyes. “I hope you did not tell her to let me win. I don’t need anyone to feel sorry for me.”

“No, of course not. I was just telling her that your coffees are here.” You motion towards the coffee cups and Villanelle smirks.

“Yes, drink some coffee. It will give you more energy,” Villanelle teases Irina, striding over to the console and downing her coffee in one gulp.

You watch Irina do the same and want to say something about maybe not chugging coffee down just because your merciless wife has done so, but you refrain.

Again, Villanelle and Irina place their elbows on the table but this time it is their left ones.

Again, Villanelle wins. You roll your eyes and scoff as she makes a show out of kissing her biceps.

“If you want to work out with me in our gym downstairs, I will teach you how to get toned and pretty soon you will be winning many more arm wrestling matches. Do you want to see my abs?”

“Villanelle…”

“What abs? I could punch you in the stomach and you would fall down! Or you would die like Houdini because you are old.”

“Okay, how about both of you not kill each other just yet and unpack the rest of these boxes so I don’t have to worry about tripping over any of them in my current state?” 

You soften your expression, knowing the effect your words will have on Villanelle, and she immediately stands up again and moves towards the remainder of the boxes. Irina glances at your belly and nods firmly before joining Villanelle on the floor.

You smile and leave the room, telling Villanelle and Irina that you’re going upstairs to take a nap. You lie down in bed and reach for your phone to text Elena.

Eve: Do you want to find out the sex of the baby?

Elena: You already found out?! When did you have the time to go to the doctor?

Eve: I’ll tell you in person about how it happenedl but the baby is going to be a girl!!!

Elena: Oh my god! I can’t wait to buy the cutest clothes. Ahhhhh!!!! How is V handling it? Has she rearranged her gun collection yet for the nonexistent prospective suitors? ;D

Eve: Ha, ha. Not yet, but I’m sure she’s added that to her To Do list. You should have seen her face when she found out. She’s downstairs arm wrestling with Irina. I hope they don’t end up killing each other… 

Elena: She’s arm wrestling with Irina??

Eve: She’s trying to show off how strong she is. She actually flexed her biceps twice today. NGL, it was hot.

Elena: You two make me sick. But yeah, I imagine that would be hot…you’re so lucky. 

Eve: You don’t even want to see my face when she works out.

Elena: Works out or “works out.”

Eve: Elena!!

Elena: What, I can’t make sexy jokes like you and V? You have to admit, that was pretty funny.

Eve: Yes, it was.

Elena: How do you feel? Any kicks yet?

Eve: No, not yet. I was feeling tired after making brunch and trying to prevent Irina from dumping her plate all over V’s head. I might take a nap and then see what the plan is for later. Come over if you want?

Elena: Sure, if I can get through this work. I need to give you a pregnancy congrats hug and a move-in congrats hug. I’m happy for you.

Eve: Thanks, E. I think I’m still in shock. It will probably feel more real when Villanelle shows up with half of the Harrods children’s section…

Elena: Please convince her to buy used. We’re already killing the planet off as it is.

Eve: No, she will. Trust me. She’s changed a lot since we started dating. She mentioned wanting to use reusable nappies. Can you imagine? Our former assassin? Caring about the environment and toxic chemicals on baby skin? My heart.

Elena: That’s bloody adorable. She’s gone all soft.

Eve: Challenge her to an arm wrestling match and you’ll think otherwise. That glint in her eyes and when she bites her bottom lip…definitely the opposite.

Elena: I will when I come over. See you later. Rest please or you’ll be knackered later.

You put your phone down on the bedside table and sigh contentedly, rubbing your hands over your belly. You think about how excited your mother will be when you call her with the news and how she will want to leave Connecticut and stay with you for awhile to help with the baby’s birth. You think about how excited Villanelle is even though you know she is worried about her upbringing and how that might impact her ability to parent. You already know she will be a good one but you hope she realizes that herself. Maybe you’ll encourage her to talk about that topic with the therapist she started going to after you got married. 

One hour later, you wake up from your nap and wash your face before going downstairs. You hear Villanelle speaking to Irina from the kitchen area as you stand on the bottom step and smile.

“You are lucky Eve chose you. She could have turned you down again and then you would be angry all the time.”

“That is the first thing you have said today that has made any sense,” Villanelle replies. “Are you cutting up the vegetables very small? Eve doesn’t like them to be too big.”

“Yes. Maybe you need some glasses in your old age,” Irina huffs.

“And maybe you will not even get to eat any dinner because I will banish you to the back garden.”

“Eve wouldn’t let you do that. She is very smart.”

“She is. Hey! Do not develop feelings for her. Otherwise I won’t let you come here anymore.”

“Eww!! I don’t have feelings for anybody. My dad said…”

“Your dad spoke a lot of shit. Feelings exist. Maybe you need to talk to your therapist about it. My one is really good. Eve recommended me to go to her.”

“YOU go to therapy to talk about FEELINGS?,” Irina barks out incredulously.

“Uh…yes? Do you think I want Eve to leave me again?”

“Oh, yeah…good point. I am very glad you two are together because you were driving my dad even more crazy and he said he should have gotten paid for all the free therapy he gave out.”

“Eve was asking your dad for a lot of advice?”

“Yes. Not as much as you did though.”

You walk into the kitchen still sporting a smile and Villanelle turns from the stove to look at you, her eyes quickly running up and down the length of your body.

“Did you sleep well?,” she asks, approaching you and slipping her hands around your waist.

You nod and tilt your head up for a kiss. She grins, lightly squeezing your ass before stepping backwards and taking the cutting board of vegetables from Irina, dumping its contents into the bowl of simmering vegetable stock and spices.

“Irina, did you call your mother to tell her you were staying over?,” you ask, watching Irina wash the cutting board and various utensils at the sink.

“I will tell her before we eat.”

The doorbell rings and Villanelle turns, raising her eyebrows at you.

“Elena,” you reply and watch as Villanelle walks to the door and lets a very excited Elena inside. Instantly, she pulls Villanelle towards her for a hug and apologizes for the raindrops on her parka.

“Gosh, it’s positively pouring outside. Congratulations, V. Hi Irina. Haven’t burned anything down yet, have you?”

“Not yet,” Irina grins.

“Oh my god, congratulations!!!,” Elena exclaims, running over to you and hugging you tightly. She smells like air and rain and you find the scent intoxicating. When you pull away, you notice Villanelle’s eyes lingering over your face for a second but you don’t detect any jealousy. You think it’s muted desire, something you’re sure Villanelle will act upon when she has you alone later on.

“Is that my godchild in there?,” Elena asks, placing her hand on your belly.

“The one and only.”

“I thought I was going to be godmother? I need something to keep myself busy when my mother isn’t trying to ruin my life,” Irina interrupts, her brow furrowed.

“Oh, I mean, you both can be godparents,” you hastily exclaim, exchanging a look with Elena hinting that you will talk to her about it later.

“You want to arm wrestle for it?,” Elena jokes, placing her elbow on the kitchen counter.

You groan, putting your head in your hands as Villanelle’s excited laughter and applause rings in your ears.

When Irina beats Elena, she screams and runs around the kitchen, pumping her hands in the air like a boxer who has just won their first fight.

“Irina, be careful!,” you plead, watching Irina move too close to the stove for your comfort. She slows down when Villanelle pulls the back of her shirt and asks her to shake Elena’s hand. Your heart warms over this conciliatory gesture and you think Villanelle’s diplomacy skills will come in handy when your baby is born.

Elena sits down next to you and the both of you talk as you watch Irina and Villanelle prepare dinner. Two hours later, after dinner has been served and the kitchen has been cleaned up, Irina goes to the guest room after saying goodnight. Elena leaves soon after and promises to call the next day.

Villanelle stands up from the couch and you groan without the support of her body. She holds out her hand and pulls you upstairs, into your bedroom, and closes the door.

“I missed you when you were taking a nap without me,” she mumbles against your ear, her hands running up the sides of your body.

“You did?”

“Did you?”

“Yes.”

“I could tell from the way you looked at me when you walked into the kitchen.”

“You’re so smart,” you whisper, your body reacting to Villanelle’s tongue against your earlobe. 

She grins and sings into your ear before she undoes the button on your pants and pulls down the zipper: “All along the eastern shore, put your circuits in the sea. This is what the world is for, making electricity. You can feel it in your mind, oh you can do it all the time. Plug it in and change the world, you are my electric girl.”

“Is this okay?,” she asks, pausing before pulling your pants down in response to your very fast nod.

When she stands back up, you smile a wolfish smile and sing back into her ear, your hands sliding down her back until they grip her ass. “Ooh girl, shock me like an electric eel. Baby girl, turn me on with your electric feel.”

Villanelle squeals in surprise and compliments you for appreciating her taste in music and listening to the playlists she’s been leaving on your mp3 player. 

“Shut up and take me to bed,” you purr.

“Yes, boss,” she breathlessly responds, her eyes dark with arousal and her voice dripping with lust.


	5. "Cecilia And The Satellite"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Villanelle has a nightmare and gets some help from Irina.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from the Andrew McMahon song of the same name.
> 
> Video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=222&v=x5Pc1GqqPAE&feature=emb_logo
> 
> Lyrics:  
> I lock myself in a hotel room  
> Been waiting all night for the walls to move  
> I've loved some girls that I barely knew  
> I've made some friends, and I've lost some too  
> Crashed my car, I was 17  
> My mother in the seat riding next to me  
> The things I've learned from a broken mirror  
> How a face can change when a heart knows fear  
> Through all the things my eyes have seen  
> The best by far is you  
> If I could fly  
> Then I would know  
> What life looks like from up above and down below  
> I'd keep you safe  
> I'd keep you dry  
> Don't be afraid Cecilia  
> I'm the satellite  
> And you're the sky  
> I've cafe crawled through Amsterdam  
> I've been around the world with a punk rock band  
> And I've seen London, and I've played Japan  
> I've been knocked down, I got up again  
> For all the places I have been  
> I'm no place without you  
> If I could fly  
> Then I would know  
> What life looks like from up above and down below  
> I'd keep you safe  
> I'd keep you dry  
> Don't be afraid Cecilia  
> I'm the satellite  
> And you're the sky

You wake up gasping and struggling to breathe, your hands clenching the bedsheet beneath you. You don’t remember much about the nightmare except for the image of Eve getting shot in the stomach and losing the baby. 

“V? Is everything okay?,” Eve asks, sitting up and turning on the lamp. Her eyes run over your face quickly and she reaches for your hand.

You swallow and glance at her belly. Instinctively, you reach out with your free hand and touch it.

“Are you okay?,” you find yourself asking, looking at Eve’s stomach and then back to her face.

“Are you asking me or our baby?”

“Both?,” you shrug, eyebrows raised, breaths still coming out fast and ragged.

“I’m okay and I think baby is okay. Did you have a nightmare?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Um. No. Not right now. I just need to do something, okay?”

“Okay…can I help?”

“Go back to sleep. I’ll be back. I’m just going downstairs.”

You kiss Eve on the forehead and grab your phone. Minutes later, you’re lying down on the couch and texting Nadia.

Villanelle: What does it mean when you dream that your partner’s baby is killed???

Nadia: Eve is pregnant?!?!

Villanelle: Yes. I had a dream that someone shot her in the stomach and we lost the baby. I need to find out if anyone has ordered a hit. I would ask Konstantin but…

Nadia: I’m sorry about Konstantin. I wish I could have made it to the funeral. I will do some snooping around and call you tomorrow?

Villanelle: Okay. Thanks. 

Nadia: Congratulations on the pregnancy, by the way. I’m happy for you and Eve.

Villanelle: I should have told you sooner but we just found out. I’m worried something bad going to happen.

Nadia: I’ll call you tomorrow, get some sleep.

You set your phone down on the coffee table and walk into the kitchen to make a cup of chamomile tea. When you turn away from the stove, Irina is standing in the doorway, rubbing her eyes.

“Can’t sleep either?,” you ask, noticing how swollen her eyes are. Perhaps she’s been crying, you think, but you don’t want to pry.

“No.”

“Do you want tea or water?”

“Water.”

You bring a glass of water over to the couch and sit down next to her, sighing with exhaustion.

“What’s wrong?,” she asks you.

“I had a bad dream,” you reply.

When she doesn’t respond you add, “I dreamt that Eve got shot and we lost the baby.”

Irina’s eyes widen slightly and she finishes her water, setting the glass on the table.

“Can you…can you ask your dad if he knows anything?,” you ask softly.

“He says he has not heard or seen anything and that if you ask him a question, you will be able to hear him.”

“Konstantin? Is she safe?,” you think, closing your eyes and leaning your head against the couch.

You hear him say yes.

“Is our baby safe?”

Again, he says yes.

“Why can’t I see you anymore?”

“You don’t need to see me anymore, Villanelle. You have everything you need, right in front of you. Keep going to therapy. Keep communicating with Eve. Do not worry so much. Your worry will show up in your dreams and this will push you away from Eve. You don’t want to lose her again.”

“Will you let me know if she is in danger? Or the baby?”

“I will do my best.”

“Thank you.”

You open your eyes and Irina is watching you intently.

“Do you think I am crazy?,” you ask her, wiping away the tears at the corner of your eyes.

She shakes her head. “I can hear him, too. I see him sometimes. Maybe we are both crazy.”

“Like two peas in a pod?,” you laugh shakily, standing up and walking into the kitchen to remove the teapot from the stove.

“Yes.”

“Do you want to talk about the dream?”

“I was just worried. I don’t want that dream to happen in real life.”

“What did my dad say?”

“That Eve isn’t in danger and neither is the baby. He said my worry caused the dream to happen.”

“Sometimes he said things that weren’t shit.”

You nod, sitting back down with your cup of tea.

“I’m glad you can hear him, too,” Irina says. “I would be lost if you and Eve were not around. I didn’t really have friends before.”

“People are stupid and easily intimidated. They knew you were smarter than they were so they targeted you.”

“Did that happen to you?”

“Yes.”

“Is that why you became an assassin?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think I would make a good assassin?”

“No. You feel too much. Like Eve.”

“And like you now.”

“Yes.”

“Is it because you love her?”

“Yes. She gave me a reason to care for someone other than myself.”

“Do you think I will find that one day?”

“Yes.”

“How can you be sure? My mother hates me. Maybe I am unlovable.”

“She doesn’t hate you. She doesn’t know what to do with you. You’re smarter than she is. You need to be more kind to her. She loves you. Your dad knew that. That is why he trusted her to raise you because he was too busy with work. And you aren't unlovable.”

“Mm.”

“You should go to therapy. It does help.”

“Okay.”

“You can ask me about love and relationships, in addition to talking to the therapist.”

Irina smiles at the smirk on your face and rolls her eyes.

“Do you really want to be godmother?,” you ask her.

“Yes. I want to find out if I can take care of someone. Do you trust me?”

“Yes. You’re no longer a little shit. You’re a bigger shit with a big heart.”

“I’m not soft.”

“It’s okay to be soft.”

“Yes, but I am still very strong and can beat your ass if I truly wanted to.”

“Probably,” you grin, ruffling her hair. 

“Are you ready to be a parent?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“How can you be sure if you’ve never been a parent before?”

“Okay, smartass. Is your dad telling you to tell me these things?”

“No. I’m just very smart.”

“True.”

“You’re lucky. To have Eve. She really loves you.”

“Are you the love expert now?”

“No. I can tell she does from the way she looks at you. It’s nice to be in a house where two people love each other.”

You nod and tears sting your eyes. You’re reminded of your upbringing and think of Irina’s and how neither of you witnessed a loving relationship. You think she is fascinated and invested in your marriage because maybe she hopes to find that stability one day too.

“Irina. Your parents did love each other, once. They were just better at loving you when they were apart.”

“Mm.”

“You will find that one day. Do you know how many billions of people are on this planet? It just takes one person to find you.”

“Yes.”

“Do you…have a preference?”

“Not really. I guess someone who understands my dark humour.”

“So someone smart then.”

“Yes,” Irina grins, straightening up when she notices Eve walking down the stairs. 

“I’m going to bed now. Goodnight,” she says and gives Eve a small smile before running upstairs and going into the guest bedroom.

“Baby? You’ve been gone for over an hour. What’s going on? Is Irina okay?”

Eve sits down next to you and slides her arm around your waist, placing her legs on top of the coffee table as well. You lean behind you and grab a cushion and shove it beneath her legs for support.

“Irina and I were just having a good conversation. She’s okay. She couldn’t sleep.”

“Do you want to talk?”

“I had a dream you and baby were in danger. It scared me. A lot.”

“What happened?”

“You were shot in the stomach.”

You blink away tears and you let Eve wipe your cheeks.

“Do you think you are worrying a little too much already?”

“Yes. I’m scared to lose you.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know. But I can’t escape from my past. What if someone has a vendetta against me and wants to track me down?”

“Then I’m sure one of our many friends and contacts will inform us before it gets to that point. And if it does get to that point, we’ll deal with it. Have you forgotten how smart I am?”

You look down at the smile on your wife’s face and your heart does a backflip at the way her hair is curling beneath her ears, hair you were just pulling a few hours ago in the throes of an orgasm.

“Of course I haven’t. You’re also very practical.”

You lean down to kiss her lips and she licks yours, exclaiming that she can taste the tea you just drank.

“Are your hormones working overtime now?,” you ask, placing your hand over her stomach.

“Hmm, not yet. I’m excited to find out what foods I am going to be craving though. Thai? Indian? Korean?”

“Whatever baby and you crave, I will be able to cook it. I’m a very fast learner in the kitchen,” you proudly proclaim.

“God, you remind me so much of my dad. He was an excellent cook.”

“So it’s true, what people say, that people end up marrying their dads?”

“You know what? I used to think that creepy and weird but now I think it is true. You’re a great cook, you’re athletic, incredibly smart, witty, and caring. No wonder why my mother loves you so much. I think she noticed all these things about you during our engagement period and then our wedding. I thought she was going to collapse when I called her and told her we were together again.”

“I called her and asked her for her blessing,” you say quietly, a little apprehensive to hear Eve’s response.

“When?”

“After I found out about Konstantin. I was ready for a grand gesture and that gesture would be trying to get you back.”

“So that’s why she didn’t sound too shocked when I told her…”

“Are you mad?”

“No! That was thoughtful of you. Thank you for including her.”

“I love your omma.”

“I know you do. She loves you.”

“Are we calling her tomorrow with the baby news?”

“Yes. We can video chat with her. We don’t need to tell the relatives, she’ll spread the word for us.”

“Do you want to have a baby shower?? We can travel to Connecticut for it since all of your relatives are there? And do another one here for our friends?”

“That actually would be perfect. It wouldn’t be too much work?”

“No.”

“It wouldn’t be too excessive?”

“No.”

“Then I’d love that. Whatever you want to do.”

Your eyes start to close so Eve pulls you from the couch and you follow her upstairs. This time when you reach the bedroom, you get into bed and fall asleep within a matter of minutes after winding your arm around Eve and her belly, thinking of the baby growing in there and how you would do anything and everything to protect her.

"The things I've learned from a broken mirror  
How a face can change when a heart knows fear  
Through all the things my eyes have seen  
The best by far is you."


	6. Representin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irina walks in on Eve and Villanelle having sex. 
> 
> A conversation ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Potential TW: mention of sex, mention of masturbation, very, very brief reference to Anna (older individual with a minor)
> 
> Title taken from the Ludacris song of the same name.
> 
> Video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=keBkITSkLlM
> 
> Lyrics:  
> Turn the lights off  
> I be representin', representin'  
> I be representin', representin'  
> Luda, yeah you representin' for bad bitches all around the world  
> The way you put it down in between the sheets is like no other girl  
> You done take it a whole another level of freakiness When you blow my mind  
> To the point where all these other women Kinda feelin' like you stole their shine  
> So I better come with it,  
> Ha, and I better come split it  
> And I admit that I'm feeling a little pressure, when you're telling me I better come get it  
> Ha but I'm the man for the job  
> Can't nobody do it quite like I do  
> And the same go for you, we a match made in heaven, Ima stand right by you  
> Why you saying?  
> Just wanna keep all your attention baby  
> Yeah, alright, alright, alright, hey  
> It turns me on to know I turn you on, yeah OK, OK, OK  
> Hey can I grab the wheel and drive you crazy  
> Yeah, alright, alright, alright, hey  
> Sit in the front row and watch me perform  
> Hm you do that and you gonna learn today, hey  
> I'll be representin'(Get on that thang), representing (Get on that thang),  
> (Get on that thang and represent)  
> I be representin', (Get on that thang) representin' , (Get on that thang, get on that thang)  
> Watch how I put it down  
> Put it down like ay,  
> Only know you can do it  
> Then I'ma hit every single one of your spots and really you don't need to walk me through it  
> But you can talk me through it  
> When I'm askin' if this' minds  
> Ima be a motivation just you just tryna see if you can break my fucking spine,  
> I'm so attracted, to the way you carry yourself and keep your composures  
> You a lady in the street but behind closed doors you're a fucking soldier  
> A brother will never know  
> That's how you like it ha,  
> Bet that booty pack a mean punch and Ima spike it, huh  
> Why you saying  
> Just wanna keep all your attention baby  
> Yeah, alright, alright, alright, hey  
> It turns me on to know I turn you on, yeah  
> OK, OK, OK  
> Hey can I grab the wheel and drive you crazy  
> Yeah, alright, alright, alright,  
> Hey sit in the front row and watch me perform  
> Hm you do that and you gonna learn today,  
> I'll be representin'(Get on that thang), representin' (Get on that thang),  
> (Get on that thang and represent)  
> I'll be representin', (Get on that thang) representin' , (Get on that thang, get on that thang)  
> Watch how I put it down

"Just wanna keep all your attention baby  
Yeah, alright, alright, alright, hey  
It turns me on to know I turn you on, yeah  
OK, OK, OK  
Hey can I grab the wheel and drive you crazy  
Yeah, alright, alright, alright,  
Hey sit in the front row and watch me perform  
Hm you do that and you gonna learn today..."

You wake up feeling cold and realize that Villanelle has pulled all the covers from you sometime during the night. You reach behind you and gently tug one corner of the covers towards you but don’t sense any difference. Villanelle doesn’t budge and you humph.

“Baby,” you say steadily, moving your head back so you look up at her as you stroke the side of her cheek with the back of your knuckles.

“Hmm,” Villanelle replies groggily, opening her eyes to stare at you.

“You’re hogging the covers.”

“I’m such an asshole,” she replies, her eyes widening. She quickly moves her body and gently drapes the covers over you before placing her hand against your belly and kissing you softly against the nape of your neck.

The soft act makes all the blood rush from your head to other parts of your body and suddenly you’re not as cold as you were a few seconds ago. 

You hurriedly grab her hand before moving it between your legs. You can feel her body respond to the movement and when you turn your head upwards to look into her eyes, you shiver in anticipation as to what she is going to do next.

She slips her fingers beneath the waistband of your shorts and easily pulls them down. She traces the length of your thighs before her fingers return to your body and you gasp when two of them enter you as her thumb circles your throbbing clit.

“Do you like that?,” she whispers, her voice husky and low. 

You nod and push your head back against her breasts. She kisses your shoulder and you want to ask her to remove your t-shirt but you also don’t want her to stop doing what she is doing.

“Wait,” you say breathlessly and turn your body towards her. You push her onto her back and decide to straddle her and ride her fingers. 

Her eyebrows quirk up slightly and her pupils are blown. You pull off your shirt and throw it onto the ground before kissing up the length of her stomach and stopping at her throat.

You grin at the groan in her throat and the tightening of her grip on your ass. With one hand between your legs and the other at the base of your back to support your greedy thrusts, Villanelle's desire to please you only heightens your feelings of arousal and affection.

“Faster?,” she gasps as you start to feel her squirming beneath you, trying to gain some friction.

You nod and she plunges inside of you faster as your hands squeeze her breasts and you bend your head down to catch her lips between your own. The second the orgasm ripples through your body, you bite down on her bottom lip and she cries out. 

You’re just about to apologize when the door flies open and you hear Irina scream like she is being murdered.

“OH MY GOD, STOP, I MEAN, NO, DON’T STOP! I DIDN’T SEE ANYTHING!!!,” she yells, banging the door closed and running down the stairs.

Villanelle groans beneath you and you pull yourself off of her, trying to catch your breath.

“I was just cock blocked by that little shit!,” Villanelle growls, ignoring the amused expression on your face.

“Don’t think about that now. Ride my face.”

Villanelle’s eyes widen and she looks at you with a surprised expression. “Such a bold statement. You’ve never said it like that before.”

“Could be hormones, could be love, could be holy-shit-my-wife-is-going-to-be-a-MILF.”

Villanelle yelps and pulls you towards her, her eyes coated in mirth. She kisses you deeply and pulls away, eyeing your breasts. “Are they bigger? They look bigger.”

“No, they’re not bigger,” you laugh, enjoying the attention she is giving to your sweat-slicked body. “I was serious about my face unless you don’t want to right now?”

“I can’t, I’m sorry. I’m just thinking about how traumatized Irina must be. Now I guess I need to have the sex talk with her.”

Although Villanelle is complaining and rolling her eyes in a move that is eerily similar to your own, you can detect the concern underlying her statement and understand her desire to help Irina despite her own arousal.

“Let’s continue this later then?,” you whisper, kissing her on the lips.

She moans into your mouth and nods before peeling her body away from yours and stepping out of bed. Her long legs are accentuated in the morning light as she stands in front of the window and scrunches her eyebrows together, trying to find a t-shirt to wear.

“Just wear mine,” you offer and she retrieves it from the floor with a grin. 

“Don’t you mean mine?,” she replies, pulling the collar of the shirt towards her nose and inhaling. “It smells like you. I’m stealing this back.”

After pulling on a pair of pajama pants over her underwear, she returns to bed to kiss you gently on the lips and run her fingers through your unruly hair. 

“I love seeing you naked in our bed,” she says and you feel your chest constrict with the genuine emotion behind each word.

“I love being naked in our bed,” you retort, noticing how her eyes are again traveling to your belly. 

“I’m going to brush my teeth and then go down and talk to her. Do you want me to bring you breakfast or are you going to join us later? Sleep in if you and baby are tired,” she suggests.

“I’ll come downstairs with you and make breakfast. Why don’t you talk to Irina?”

“Okay.” Villanelle disappears into the bathroom and after she is done, you walk in and quickly brush your teeth and wash your face. You throw on her sweatpants and another one of her t-shirts and walk downstairs, trying to be discreet about entering the kitchen. 

You see Villanelle sitting outside with Irina and can hear the conversation through the window.

“Are you okay?,” Villanelle starts off.

“Yes. I have seen that before,” Irina gruffly replies.

“Do not talk to me about walking in on your dad or I will throw up. I have not had my coffee yet either.”

You grin at Villanelle’s statement and can picture the perturbed look on her face. You put the coffee maker on and start to throw some pieces of bread into the toaster while cutting up a random assortment of fruit and pulling out the agave and raspberry jam.

“EW! I do not want to think about that!!!,” Irina screeches.

“So who were you talking about? Where have you seen…oh… online?”

“Yes.”

“Hm.”

“Is that where you learned about it?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“I was stupid when I was younger. I thought sex was about power and control so I had a lot of it. It did not mean anything. But that is how I learned about it.”

“You are telling me to have a lot of sex so I can learn about how to have sex?”

“No! Do not have a lot of sex. Your father would have me killed somehow. Talk to me about it. Do you have questions?”

“How did you learn about it?”

“An older girl in one of my classes told me about it and then I met someone who knew more and she showed me.”

Your heart skips a beat and your mind travels to Anna. You tighten the grip around the knife and try to push away the feeling of jealousy rising in your throat like fire from a dragon’s mouth.

“How do you…how do you do it with another woman?”

“You ask them what they like and they will show you. It is always good to ask for permission before you want to try anything. Doing something without permission is very disgusting.”

“Okay…”

“Do you feel good when you masturbate?”

“I don’t—“

“It’s okay, you don’t have to admit anything to me. But everyone masturbates just like everyone shits. The more accepting you are of your own sexuality, the better off you will be.”

“Okay.”

“Well, if you can make yourself feel good, you can make someone else feel good, too.”

“What if I can’t?”

“You will.”

“How do you know?”

“It just is. If you are with someone who loves you and you love them back, even a small touch can make you feel good. You do not have to be riding each other’s faces all the time for that sensation.”

“WHAT?!”

“Oh, yeah, you will learn about that, too. Experimentation.”

There is a pause in the conversation and you assume Irina is absorbing information. You clear the cutting board of all the fruit pieces, dumping them into a large bowl. After buttering the pieces of toast, you place plates on top of the counter and empty mugs. You have a feeling Irina is going to want to have lots of coffee so you make sure she has a large cup in front of her plate.

“You can also talk to Elena, you know,” Villanelle says when the silence seems to be stretching for too long.

“She won’t think it is weird?”

“No.”

“Can I talk to Eve?”

“Sure.”

“You won’t get mad?”

“Of course not. She is very wise and funny and smart. You should talk to her. I don’t want to hear any details of your sex life when it starts. Talk to her instead. She is also very good at sex so she will give you excellent advice.”

Your heart expands in your chest and you try to shake off the arousal crawling through your system at Villanelle's confession. You hear Irina laughing and a few seconds later she and Villanelle walk into the kitchen. Villanelle looks smug and proud of herself and Irina looks content as she sits down in front of her plate and eyes the bowl of fruit and slices of toast appreciatively before catching your eye and blushing.

“I’m going to go upstairs for my phone,” Villanelle says, leaving you and Irina alone.

“Irina…what you saw this morning, I’m sorry. I’m sure it must have been shocking but I hope you know you can talk to me about things, whenever you are ready.”

“I am sorry for opening the door like that. I should have known, by the sound…” Irina blushes again and looks down at her plate, shoveling a slice of toast in her mouth and chewing.

“No, it’s fine. Neither me nor Oksana are upset with you or anything like that. People have sex all the time. People walk in on them all the time. I think your dad would want you to talk to one of us or both of us in case you want to practice safe sex and…”

“I am not having sex,” Irina asserts and now it seems like her face is permanently flushed.

“Of course not,” you reply quickly, “but it is a smart idea to start thinking about it so that you can be safe and asking the tough questions in advance.”

“Do you have it every day?," Irina asks softly, averting your gaze to focus on the fruit bowl instead. 

“No. God, I would be dead. That's something to talk to your partner about. What you like, when, where. Do you want coffee?”

Irina nods, her mouth now filled with fruit.

Villanelle reenters the room, a huge grin plastered on her face and she sends you a wink that you think could be responsible for giving you a mini heart attack based on the way your heart flutters in response.

“Baby, can you get the coffee?,” you ask, sitting down next to Irina.

“What?,” Villanelle replies uncharacteristically, placing one hand behind her ear.

“Can you get the coffee pot?”

“Yes, sorry, I didn’t hear you. I think I’m suddenly hard of hearing, especially after this morning…”

Irina almost chokes on her food as Villanelle laughs over the kitchen sink, watching you groan into your hands at her joke.

“I think I will need some gin in mine,” you state, returning her level gaze but sending her a wink back.


End file.
